


There's Something About Dean Lately

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Season 12 spoilers, Wincest Reverse Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 22:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11170938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: Seems that Mary wasn't the only person Amara brought back from the dead & soon the bunker is full of people. Dean seems to be very popular and, soon, every single person in the bunker wants to impress him.  Flowers, chocolates, and the world itself are all on offer.  Will Dean find his one true love amongst all of these suitors?  And why is Sam acting so weirdly?  Perhaps these two questions only have one answer...whatever that is, there is certainly something about Dean lately!





	There's Something About Dean Lately

**Author's Note:**

> I was lucky enough to get this awesome art as a pinch hit, and writing the story to go with it was an absolute pleasure. [tx-devilorangel](http://tx-devilorangel.livejournal.com/) has been a sweetheart to work with, and it has been really wonderful. Huge thanks to her, please go give her kudos [ here](http://tx-devilorangel.livejournal.com/3225.html).

It appeared that Mary wasn’t Amara’s only gift to Dean. Not that he wasn’t glad to see Benny again, or Kevin who appeared at the front door of the bunker looking dewy eyed and confused. As it turned out, it wasn’t just the dear departed who seemed to find their way to the bunker. Garth was the next visitor; skinny and smiling carrying a welcome bottle of cheap whiskey, with a bulge in his pocket that looked suspiciously like Mr. Fizzles. Two days after Garth, Cole arrived.

“I hear there might be a werewolf in the area”, he said without preamble. “I’m hunting now,” he added. It didn’t take long for the British Men of Letters to get wind of what was happening either. Ketch turned up with a large supply of weapons and a distrustful expression.

“Lots of monster activity flagged up,” he muttered. “I thought I would look into it.”

Where Ketch went, it appeared that Mick went too and they appeared to take part ownership of the bunker without even asking. Crowley popped up about an hour after the Brits had _settled in_. He didn’t really seem to have any excuse for his appearance, and Dean reckoned that he might just be there to escape from his mother. By the time Cas fluttered in Sam was wearing the biggest bitch-face in Winchester history, and the bunker, despite its size, seemed to be getting a tad over crowded. 

“They’re my friends,” Dean said as he tried to appease Sam with a happy smile. He quite liked the fact there were a lot of people around, it made him feel protected. Made him feel like – well – family.

“They’re my friends too!” The bitch-face grew more spectacular and Dean wondered if Sam was going to flounce off to his room. “But I. . . .” His cheeks turned a little pink and Dean grinned, enjoying his brother’s sudden awkwardness. “I liked it when. . . .” He shrugged. “When there was just the two of us, and Cas . . . occasionally.”

“I’m sure they’ll all get bored and go back to their own lives soon enough.” Dean peered into the icebox and tried to decide what he might cook. Of the people here he was certain that two didn’t eat at all, one would be on a _liquid_ diet and another probably would appreciate a nice big fat human heart (and he didn’t have many of those in the freezer).

“Yeah, well.” Sam shrugged and pretended to fiddle with one of the pans. “Let’s hope it’s sooner rather than later.”

****

The first _incident_ came a month after everyone arrived; despite his reassurances to Sam, Dean could see that not one of their visitors was showing any eagerness to leave. Why would they? Benny had nowhere to go, and had never fitted in well with society. Kevin was reluctant to reveal himself to his mom, and seemed to be enjoying his sudden independence (and new lease of life). Garth loved company and entertaining (Mr. Fizzles made somewhat unwelcome appearances at the dinner table), and the British Men of Letters appeared to love the bunkers’ _old-fashioned_ shooting range and library. Cole often joined them down there too. That left Cas and Crowley who had history, and whose arguments were par for the course. They appeared to spend a lot of time in Sam’s room, which did not please his brother, watching Netflix and discussing the merits of Tyrion versus John Snow as to who was the most fanciable!

And so, to the _incident_ ; Dean had been in the study bending down to reach for a lore book which seemed to have found its way to the lower shelf. His shoulders were down and his ass was up which led to someone smacking him hard there, and following it up with a rather painful pinch.

“Hey!” Dean shot up and whirled around but all he caught was the tail end of someone dashing around the corner. He shrugged; he did have a pretty fine ass and he couldn’t blame his mystery admirer for wanting to have a piece of it. He said as much to Sam when they met in the kitchen later that day. Dark eyes met his, a frown already forming on that familiar face.

“You shouldn’t encourage them,” Sam said, finally.

“I wasn’t encouraging anything. I was bending down to get a book.”

“You flirt with everyone,” Sam huffed as he put the coffee pot on. “You should give it a rest.”

“Green is so not your color, Sammy,” Dean crowed and earned himself a withering glance.

“It’s Sam,” his brother said and then he slunk off to spend time with Kevin, the two of them geeking out over the latest computer game or something.

 

****

_Incident 2_ came very soon after. It was heading up to Valentine’s Day and Dean was looking forward to his usual _bar and babe_ trip. He was smothering himself in cologne and spiking his hair when there was a knock on his door. He opened it up to see a huge bunch of roses, and a massive box of chocolates. Impressed he looked up and down the corridor to find out who might have left it there, but there wasn’t much in the way of a clue. He decided he’d cheer Sam up by sharing the chocolates with him but, as usual, his brother poured cold water on his enthusiasm.

“You should be finding a way to remove all of these people, Dean.” Sam turned his nose up at a hazelnut whirl. “Not encouraging them.”

“I told you before, I’m not encouraging them.”

“You went to the store and ordered seven human hearts! You had Crowley raid a blood bank, and you bought Kevin **Halo 2**. If that’s what you call not encouraging . . . ,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I just don’t know what to say.”

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean wasn’t sorry. Not really – but he just liked to wind his brother up. “I’ll try to do better.”

“Asshole,” Sam sighed but the fondness was there in his eyes, and Dean counted that as a win.

****

It was the King of Hell who showed his hand first, although Dean was convinced Crowley wasn’t the ass-pinching or flower-giving sort. Dean was loitering around in the study with a full carafe of whiskey, and a **Busty Asian Beauties** magazine. They hadn’t caught a case in quite a while, both brothers enjoying some downtime. (Although Dean wasn’t sure Sam enjoyed anything much these days due to his sour expression, and lack of patience with their _guests_ ). 

“There you are.” Crowley ambled into the study looking cool. Dean was certain that was a new suit, and it was definitely a new tie (deep red and so Crowley’s color – not that Dean noticed that sort of thing). “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You found me.” Dean tipped his glass up. “What can I do for you, Crowley?”

“You remember when you were a demon?” Crowley appeared to be blushing but that couldn’t be.

“Yeah. Good times.” Dean wasn’t particularly eager to recall those dark days.

“Yes. Yes, they were.” Crowley fidgeted and tugged at his tie. “We – um – bromance, and all that.”

“If you say so,” Dean replied and chuckled at the memory; games of foosball and nights in sticky karaoke bars was hardly what you might call wonderful, but he guessed Crowley didn’t get out much (well, out of Hell much anyhow).

“I miss them, Squirrel,” and did Crowley sound over fond when he said Dean’s nickname, voice low and soft? “Seeing you here, like this . . . all domestic . . . makes me . . . ,” he swallowed. “Makes me want things, I didn’t know I wanted.”

“Are you messing’ with me, Crowley? What do you want? Got some problem you need me and Sam to solve?”

“I have no need for the moose.” Crowley looked odd, his expression a strange mix of anger, resignation, and embarrassment. “Just you.”

“Fuck,” it wasn’t the most romantic of responses but it slipped out of his mouth before he could call it back. “You’re serious.”

“Of course.” Crowley waved his arm around expansively. “I could give you anything you wanted, Dean. Anything.”

Dean thought of his demon days; of selling his soul, of losing the mark. These days there wasn’t much he did want - maybe a relationship with someone he could really love, but with the King of Hell . . . ?

“Look, I’m flattered but I don’t think . . . ,” he’d hardly gotten the words out before Crowley huffed, snapped his fingers, and vanished. Dean stared at the empty space for a long time.

****

“Where’s Crowley?” Sam asked when they settled down to watch **Bridget Jones’s Baby** on Netflix, Sam finally giving in and helping himself to Dean’s chocolates.

“Gone back to Hell, I guess.” Dean pretended to be really fascinated with Mark Darcy.

“Did something happen?” Sam leaned into him for a moment, warm and solid.

“No,” and Dean hoped he sounded convincing enough to appease his brother. “He just got fed up of being here, I guess.”

“These chocolates are good.” Sam helped him by changing the subject and when Dean turned to look his brother was beaming.

****

The roses needed throwing out and Dean was working on it diligently when the 3rd _incident_ happened. 

“Beautiful, are they not?” Ketch appeared behind him, a smile on his face, smooth and slick.

“Well yeah, but I need to clean ‘em out now.” Dean shook the wrinkled petals.

“It is such a shame that something so perfect has to die.” Ketch put a carefully manicured hand on Dean’s arm. “So soft and yet . . . ,” His nails dug into Dean’s flesh causing him to yelp a little. “So sharp, like me.”

“Like you?” Dean turned to see Ketch staring at him. He noticed that the British man was wearing his black leather jacket with a white pressed tee underneath. “Wait a minute, did you buy these?”

“Of course, who else in this place would have the breeding and – let us be frank – the money to afford such luxuries?”

“Um,” Dean was speechless. He had no comprehension that the Brit felt anything for him, let alone enough to buy him flowers.

“Your mother is the perfect hunter and your brother has a mind beyond compare, but you . . . you and I are very alike. I enjoy my job and it is clear you enjoy yours.” He smirked. “I like a little pain too, and I am sure you would.”

“Dude!” Dean rocked back on his heels. “I’m just not into that sort of thing.”

“You are not into men?”

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it again, he couldn’t really answer that question. He thought – perhaps – he might have been into men in the past, but it had been a while. That said he certainly wasn’t into Ketch nor did the thought of S&M fill him with any sort of excitement.

“Dean, we are made for each other.” Strong arms encircled him and he found himself being pulled close enough to smell Ketch’s jacket, and his strong cologne.

“Hey mate, you started without me.” Mick stood in the doorway with an expression of annoyance on his face. He looked from Ketch to Dean, and back again, and then he shook his head. “You promised you’d wait,” he said.

“Oh, Michael – do grow up!”

“You said we’d share. You bought the flowers and I supplied candy.”

“So, it was you that left the chocolates?” Dean’s head was spinning. Who knew he had so many fucking admirers.

“Yes, did you like them?”

“Yeah. Yeah, but that’s not the point. Look guys, you are good hunters but there it ends. I’m not sure I even like you that much, let alone anything else.”

“Well, I say.” Ketch stepped back and Dean took a relieved breath. “If that is how you feel I believe we should go back to our own compound.” He gestured to Mick. “Are you coming, Michael?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Mick looked Ketch up and down. “Y’know I’m quite into S&M myself, if you wanna?”

“Indeed,” Ketch beamed. “Well still waters do run deep then. Let us away.”

And with that they were gone.

****

“I brought you some daffodils.” Sam handed Dean a rather limp bunch of – what looked like – handpicked flowers. “They were growing quite freely outside of the bunker, and I noticed the roses had died.” His cheeks flushed. “I also brought you pie – figured you liked it better than chocolate.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean took the flowers and the box of pie; the scent made his mouth water and he nodded happily. “You wanna join me?”

“Sure.” Sam flopped down on the chair. “I was in the shooting range earlier, those Brits were nowhere to be seen. Have they found something else to amuse them?”

“They’ve gone.” Dean figured his brother didn’t need to know that the two Brits thought Dean was one hot piece of ass. “Guess they got bored.”

“Like Crowley?”

“Yeah, like Crowley.”

“Good.” Sam’s eyes, when they met his, were soft. “I like it better when there are less of us . . . means more . . . um . . . more pie for me.”

Dean grinned and cut his brother a huge piece, it was always nice to see Sammy smile.

****

Things had quietened down a little now there weren’t so many people in the bunker. Benny was still around, as was Kevin. Neither of them seemed to have anywhere else they’d rather be. Cole spent the majority of his time in the shooting range (now that the Brits had vacated it) and Garth did his own thing (whatever that was). Sam seemed to be much more at ease, and the bitch-face had virtually dissipated. Dean was happier because his brother was happier, and everything was right with the world . . . until _incident 5!_  
****

“Remember once during the trials, there was mention of keggers?” Kevin flopped down in front of him with a cheesy smile.

“Vaguely. Although, I seem to remember it was _no keggers._ ” Dean tipped his chair back and stretched out his arms. “Why?”

“I thought that there were enough people here to have a party.” Kevin flushed a little. “Before I go back, and give my mom the good news . . . y’know, alive and all that.”

“A party, eh?” Dean grinned. “Music, beer, and food?”

“All of that.” 

“Women?” Dean felt the grin turn into a smirk.

“Um.” Kevin’s face flared deep pink. “I-I . . . well, despite Channing . . . not really.” He went impossibly redder. “I’m not really into girls.”

“Okay then.” Dean processed the information and filed it away to tell Sam. “I can’t offer much in the way of men.” He watched amused as Kevin’s expression faltered and went from embarrassed to mortified. “But we can do the rest.”

“Awesome.” Kevin scuttled off as fast as his legs could carry him.

****

As Dean suspected, Sam was not as into the idea of a party; there was the slightest hint of bitch face, and a hell of a lot of moaning.

“Did you not party when you were at Stanford, Sammy?” Dean nudged his shoulder already knowing the answer. 

“I was there to study, Dean! I didn’t have a lot of time for partying.”

“What about that time that Jess was a hot nurse?” He didn’t want to upset Sam by mentioning moments from his very distant past but he did want his brother to lighten up.

“Halloween, you mean? Yeah, well that was a blast,” Sam’s mouth turned down and he sighed heavily. Dean returned the sigh with some exasperation, but he was determined to _‘get the party started’_ one way or the other.

“Come on, Sam – let’s live a little. It could be fun.”

Sam stared at him a moment, tip-tilted eyes soft, mouth curving slowly into a smile. “Are you partying?” 

“Of course, Sammy. I’ll even save you a dance.”

He might have imagined it of course but his brother seemed to flush, the pink along his high boned cheeks making him look almost ethereally beautiful in the dim light of the bunker. Dean shook himself. Damn he sounded like a chick, and about his brother too.

“I’ll keep you to that, Dean.” Sam was beaming and Dean felt oddly warm inside. Maybe the party would be awesome after all.

****

It wasn’t really a party more of a gathering of people in the bunker. Dean had considered asking Jody, Claire, and Alex but, in the end, he’d decided against it. More food and drink for them. Castiel had seemed to enjoy decorating the place, bright red balloons and streamers hanging down. There was a table groaning with pie, chips and donuts, and the beer was flowing freely. Mr. Fizzles made an odd but enjoyable DJ, and the music was loud. 

“Now for the romantics here let’s slow things down a bit,” Mr. Fizzles squeaked out as some old Motown classic started up. Dean looked around, amused. Cole was in conversation with Benny about some sort of expensive looking gun, Castiel was drinking whiskey and checking his balloons and Kevin was looking awkward. Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Sam standing behind him with a hopeful expression on his face.

“We could . . . ,” he began but was rudely interrupted by Kevin suddenly surging forward and grabbing Dean by the hand. “Um forget it.” Sam seemed to disappear into the darkness, gone before Dean could protest. He followed Kevin and found himself shuffling rather awkwardly around the ‘dance floor’ until Kevin’s shaking and, frankly, sweaty hand seemed to find its way onto Dean’s ass.

“Hey!” Dean stepped back, astonished. Kevin looked partly shamed but partly proud.

“I thought I made myself clear,” Kevin said. “About how I felt.”

“You told me you preferred dudes to chicks,” Dean said and shook his head. “Not that you wanted to . . . get inside my pants.”

“I’ve always liked you, Dean. You are so different to the usual geeks I hung around with.” Kevin glanced over his shoulder as if looking for someone, and Dean realized he was talking about Sam.

“Kev, you are a nice boy and I’m glad you’re back, but I don’t . . . ,” he was going to say _swing that way_ but the words caught in his throat somehow. “I’m just not attracted to you.”

Kevin dropped his arms as if he had been shot. He shook his head and bit his lip.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he mumbled. “I guess I ought to go home to mom and be honest with her.”

“I think the shock that you are back from the dead might transcend the shock that you are gay, Kev. I’m sure there is someone out there for you, and I’m sorry it isn’t me.”

As the party drew to a close and everyone retreated to their various rooms Dean found himself alone at the table with a rather drunk, half asleep, Sam in front of him. His brother looked debauched somehow, hair all over the place, shirt half buttoned up, and mouth slack.

“I wanted to dance with you,” he slurred and Dean laughed, reaching out and touching his hand.

“Next time Astaire,” he said fondly.

****

The bunker seemed almost empty now. Cole was still around and so was Garth. Neither of them appeared to need company, and Dean found himself, mercifully, alone with Sam increasingly often and, oddly, he also found himself really enjoying his brother’s company, both of them on the same page in what seemed like forever.

It was an encounter with Benny late one night after everyone else was in bed that caused _incident 6_ , and also caused Dean to do some very deep thinking. The vampire was sitting at the desk, in Sam’s usual spot, tipped back on the chair and drinking blood out of a plastic bag. He looked chilled out but Dean knew him well enough to see that he was tense and on edge. Ready to strike if necessary.

“Hey Chief.” He waved a languid hand. “Seems odd being here like this, back from Purgatory for a second time. No offence but I kinda liked it down there.”

“I know; I guess Amara thought she was doing me and you a favor. I can’t say it isn’t good to see you though, Benny. I missed you.”

Benny smiled then; eyes sharp on Dean’s face.

“Y’know you were the only human I’ve ever trusted, and the only human I’ve wanted to turn for a long time.” He narrowed his gaze. “I always wanted you in the wrong way, but I knew there was no hope. There still isn’t, if truth be known.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s mind was whirling with Benny’s sudden and unexpected confession. Things had been pretty damn weird recently what with all these sudden offers from people he always thought of as friends.

“I mean, I couldn’t compete with your _one true love_ ,” Benny said and sat upright.

“My _one TRUE love_?” Dean frowned. “No offense there, Benny but as much as loved Lisa and Cassie neither of them could be called that.”

“I’m not talking about them, chief. I’m talking about Sam.”

“Sam? My brother, Sam?”

“Do you know any other Sam’s?”

“No. But . . . .” Dean’s gut clenched uncomfortably. “Well, first off and most importantly - we’re brothers.”

“And that matters why?”

“Brothers! Two men!”

“I’m a vampire who has spent the best part of my _life_ in Purgatory, Dean, you think that might bother me at all?”

Dean was silent; he stared at Benny’s pale face, at his stoic expression and he tried to take in his words.

“I’m sorry old friend,” Benny was still talking. “I know when it’s time to step aside, and I’m stepping aside right now. I’m gonna see if I can find myself a new home, and start afresh. As long as I can come around and see you now and again. Make sure you’re happy.”

Dean swallowed and nodded. Benny was up and off his seat in an instant, his big arms holding Dean. They hugged for a moment and then broke apart.

“You think on what I’ve said, Dean.” Benny dropped an oddly chaste and unexpected kiss on Dean’s forehead. “Don’t let things slip from your grasp, okay?”

Dean nodded. Sure, he would think on what Benny had said, but Sammy – his one true love – it all seemed so wild and so impossible. There again they were pretty co-dependent, and there had been times when he’d looked at his brother and thought about what it might be like to kiss him, and touch him. He’d always blamed those moments on drink or stress, or one of them coming back from the dead, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He wondered if things could get anymore random.

****

With Benny gone things had almost returned to normal; sure, Garth and Cole were still around somewhere, but it was getting pretty easy to avoid them. After everything that had happened Dean didn’t really want to be confronted by another old acquaintance suddenly declaring their _undying love or lust_ , and he was certain that might happen. He’d given some serious thought to the people who’d come around recently, and he had realized that Amara had brought them all here for a reason. That reason appeared to be Dean. As flattered as he was, he realized that he wasn’t interested in any of them beyond friendship and there had to be some cause. Thing was, if Benny was correct then the _cause_ was right in front of his eyes.

****

Perhaps, Dean mused, as Mr. Fizzles launched into another _everything is all right and you should give into your feelings_ speech, Garth wasn’t the man to talk to regarding his unnatural feelings towards his brother. If indeed he did have unnatural feelings because, at this moment, he only had Benny’s word for it.

Sam hadn’t mentioned the fact that the vampire was now gone. He had comforted Dean with pie, and coffee talking in his soft - I am so good with witnesses – voice, and telling Dean he understood and that he was bound to miss his re-animated friend. Dean had to admit he had enjoyed Sam’s arm around him. He enjoyed Sam’s voice close to his ear, and he also had to admit that Sam’s voice was doing inappropriate things to him.

He snapped back to the present to find Mr. Fizzle’s googly eyes close to his face, and Garth’s stupid grin even wider.

“Y’know I always thought you and Sam had somethin goin on.” Garth put the puppet down onto his knee and reached out, squeezing Dean’s shoulder gently. “You should totally go for it.” He winked and gave Dean what could only be described as a lascivious leer. “Cos if he don’t want it, I might know someone who does.”

“You are kidding me?” Dean found himself closer to Garth than he would like, the woolly body of Mr. Fucking Fizzles suddenly pressed hard against his thigh.

“No, Dean.” Garth looked hurt. “I always harbored a hope.”

“You are a friggin’ werewolf! And married to another werewolf! And you eat hearts!” He couldn’t actually believe it. “How can you possibly harbor any hope?”

“I’m an optimist,” Garth said and was still grinning. “Us Weres believe in sharing. It comes with the territory.”

“Dear Chuck.” Dean smacked his hand against his forehead. “Garth, you should perhaps think about going home.”

“Message received,” he said and leered again. “I’ll give you and Sam some privacy, right?”

Dean shook his head exasperated.

“Oh yeah,” he said, finally. “Me and Sam, that’s just what I need right about now.”

****

When he got down to the study he was amazed to find Sam hunched over the table. His brother appeared to be sewing something.

“You get another hole in your sock?” Dean flopped down next to Sam. His brother didn’t look up just shrugged, and continued to work, his tongue caught between his teeth in a way that Dean could only describe as delightful.

“I’m making you something,” Sam mumbled as he pricked his thumb and gave a sharp curse. By the look of his hand he’d done it a few times and Dean was touched.

“Really? What?”

Sam flushed and picked up the oddly shaped object he had been working on so diligently. It appeared to be a monkey, or at least a semblance of one, made from Sam’s old socks.

“That’s . . . .” he had no words.

“I saw how much you seemed to like Mr. Fizzles,” it all came out in a rush. “I mean you spent the whole morning with him.”

“You know he isn’t real, right?” Dean couldn’t pretend he wasn’t touched and he picked up the _‘monkey’_ and held it up to his cheek. It smelt of – well of Sam – and it was awesome.

“I know,” Sam said and laughed, and then and put his thumb into his mouth to suck off the latest smear of blood. Dean’s eyes found themselves glued to his lips and he shifted uncomfortably, his jeans suddenly inexplicably tight. “But he does make you laugh and I-I . . . .” he flushed pink again. “I like it when you’re happy, Dean.”

“I’m happy now, Sam.” He couldn’t let go of the monkey all of a sudden, and his heart was beating triple time. Perhaps, he mused, it was time to get rid of the last of their visitors because now he needed to be alone with Sam.

****

He was pleasantly surprised to see Cole in deep conversation with Castiel over something that was obviously interesting to them both. Cole was flaying his arms around and miming shooting a gun, while Cas had both hands on his shiny blade. Both looked up as he walked in, eyes curious.

“Hey guys.” The last few weeks had been odd to say the least, and he was wondering if either of them wanted to tap his ass (as most of the other guests had wanted to). “What’re you up to?”

“Cole was admiring my angel blade,” Castiel, as usual, spoke without guile. “And I was admiring his handling of such weapons.”

“Really?” Dean looked from one man to the other. “Well, that’s just awesome but I was wondering if either of you have anything else you would rather be doing?”

“Sure thing, Deano. I get it,” Cole said and smirked. “You wanna have some alone time with Cas here, don’t ya?”

“NO!” And Dean hoped he hadn’t hurt the angel’s feelings with such a vehement response. “I was . . . I mean, Sam and I have a hunt to plan. We . . . um . . . need our space.”

“You often plan hunts when I am here.” Castiel’s blue eyes were sharp. “If I did not know better, I would believe you are trying to be rid of me.”

“Never, Cas. Y’know I like having you around.” He knew his smile was feeble at best. “But I just need some down-time, and not with you.” He gazed pointedly at Cole. “Or you.”

“No offence taken.” Cole got to his feet. “Hey Cas, you wanna come back to base with me for a while. I’ve got some pretty impressive weapons to show you.”

Castiel looked stupidly pleased and Cole suitably smug. Dean stared at them for a moment.

“And neither of you want to get their hands on my ass?” He asked, finally.

“I have never had any such thoughts.” Castiel looked affronted.

“I prefer dark haired men.” Cole said and winked at Cas, who Dean was convinced blushed a nice shade of pink. “You comin’, Cas? You can ride pillion on my bike, I’ve got plenty to hang onto.”

Dean watched in some amusement as the two of them vanished from sight. Then he breathed a long, long sigh of relief, and went off in search of Sam.

****

His brother was holed up in his room watching Netflix. Sam looked relaxed lying on the bed with his ankles crossed, and arms behind his head. He was wearing a pair of old distressed jeans, and a worn tee-shirt that Dean was convinced he’d had for decades. He looked up when Dean entered, and grinned happily.

“Hey.” He looked behind Dean. “You’re alone?”

“They’ve all gone.” Dean sensed rather than saw Sam’s relief. “All of them.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m sorry.” Sam patted the bed next to him and Dean climbed on. Sam was watching some old X-Files episode involving a mutant sewer monster, and Dean stared at the screen for a moment pondering. “They’re all nice, and all, but they were all a little . . . well y’know . . . familiar with you.”

“I can’t help being so hot, Sammy,” Dean kept his voice light. “Y’know people want to tap this.” He patted his own ass and Sam shook his head.  
“You didn’t want any of them?”

“Crowley offered me everything. Ketch wanted some sort of S & M threesome with Mick. Garth and Mr. Fizzles seemed to have the idea I wanted an open relationship with werewolves, and Kevin was full of teenage angst. Even Benny seemed keener than I would have imagined,” he coughed, cheeks warming. “But he stepped aside, for my one true love.”

“Yeah?” Sam turned to stare at him; tip-tilted fox eyes sharp on his face. “And who is that? Castiel?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid!” Dean shook his head vehemently. “Cas and Cole have gone off together, and anyway, I never had any inappropriate thoughts about Cas.”

“Then who?” Sam seemed to be leaning closer now, the scent of him warm and familiar in Dean’s nostrils.

“Who do you think, doofus?”

Sam beamed then, and rather than back away and start pontificating on the wrongs of sibling incest he moved closer.  
“You remember after everyone arrived you told me someone had slapped you on the ass?”

“Yeah.”

“Well who do you think that might have been?”

“I guessed it could have been anyone.” Dean swallowed hard as Sam’s hand came down on the top of his thigh, tight against the zipper of his pants.

“It wasn’t anyone you idiot, it was me.” Sam’s fingers began to stroke along the seam of his jeans. “I wanted you to know just who you belonged to. I wanted them to know too.” He shuffled closer still and soon he was virtually looming over Dean, big and strong and wonderful. “Whatever they offered, well I can’t equal it. I want you so much, Dean. I guess I always have, but I never realized it until I saw the way the others all looked at you. God, Dean.” Sam bent forward and pressed soft lips against Dean’s own. “Say you want it too.”

And he did; it dawned on him that there was a reason that he and Sam were always so co-dependent, and always found their way back to each other. He needed his brother. He wanted him in every single way possible, and now he was going to have him. He grinned and flipped them so Sam was beneath him. It didn’t take him a moment to get Sam’s stupid pants down around his ankles and, shit so hot, his brother was going commando. He moved his mouth down, licking Sam’s thighs, his stomach and then closing his lips around his prize. Sam was silky smooth, and as hard as nails. He moaned loudly as Dean began to suck him down in earnest. His big hands rested lightly on Dean’s head, and he was moaning and mumbling stupid things but Dean couldn’t be happier as he gave his brother the benefit of all his experience.

It all made sense now. The daffodils, the pie, and the sock monkey. Sam was trying to win Dean’s affection, but there had been no need. Sam already owned him; body and soul, and as he worked on his brother, Dean wanted Sam to know that.

“Stop!” Sam pulled his head up and held him close. “I want you to . . . I need you to . . .” he blushed, and Dean grinned.

“Sure thing, Sammy.”

And then it was simple. The two of them moving together; Dean inside of his brother, deep down inside where he belonged. They didn’t need anyone else but each other, and he knew that now. Sam was what he had been searching for all along, and he couldn’t help but be grateful to all of their _guests_ for helping him see sense.

Afterwards, they lay quiet in each other’s arms as close as they could get. Sam was smiling and he looked ten years’ younger all of a sudden, as if all of his cares had been washed away.  
“There’s something about you, Dean,” he whispered. “Something that brings out the best, and perhaps, the worst in us all.”

Dean grinned back at his brother and nodded.

“All that matters is that I bring out the best and worst of you, Sammy.” He snuggled closer, deciding that later he could pretend that this wasn’t cuddling. “I think we should ban guests for a while, don’t you?”

Sam’s warm kiss was answer enough.

End


End file.
